The more vices I stop having the less and less human I feel. I’ve always known that I can stop my vices whenever I want and not return to them. More often then not I do return to them. Mostly because I’m bored with life. You get to the point to where you feel like a burnt out junkie. Feelings are your drugs and you need to feel something. That’s the worse part of emotional disconnect, you find yourself realising that no drug makes you actually feel anything. That no amount of people make you actually feel. That you find yourself becoming a kind of emotional vampire. Needing those emotions negative or positive it doesn’t matter. I’ve stopped almost all my vices. No more drinking because it makes me want to die. No more drugs because one high is never enough and there are so many drugs to try, and highs to find. No more traveling because I know I’ll never stop trying to find home and I won’t stop running from or toward something. My only real vice is to collecting, then it becomes collecting for the sake of collecting not because I want too. More rather to finish my runs of a figure series, a comicbook series, or movie series. Then they just sit on the shelf. I lack the ability to motivate myself anymore. I need electronic motivation a picture, a song, a movie, and the list keeps going. I took advantage of my lovely Regin when she came to me in dreams. I took advantage of words from the wind. I took advantage of the dances of the flame and the visions they’d inspire. I’m slowly becoming a shell of myself, and that scares the fucking shit out of me. I’ve never wanted to burn out and I feel like I’m starting too. Almost nothing honestly gets me excited anymore.